I always thought having children was something I most definitely wanted. My thoughts haven't totally changed but I can categorically say that I have been scarred for a while.
My sister in law is currently carrying my first ever niece or nephew. 38 weeks pregnant, larger than me which nobody thought would happen and the little Pallari's gender will be a total surprise. I absolutely can't wait and don't remember being this excited on a count down for anything.
We had a lovely day out in London doing our standard shopping, eating and buying posh macaroons; followed by her last but one midwife appointment (unless the baby wants to come and play before) - I was really excited as I had never experienced anything like this before. I asked Andri about ten times during the day if she was going to have jelly on her belly and if I slipped the midwife a tenner would she let me have a peek at the gender. Much to my disappointment I soon discovered that not every midwife appointment is spent watching the baby swim round your tummy on the screen whilst getting emosh.
When we arrived we sat in the waiting room, and I don't know why but I was surprised to see that everybody in there was pregnant. I just found it really funny - everyone in there had some form of a round belly and as I kept looking around the room trying to work out 'their story' I then realised that everybody in there was probably thinking exactly the same about me. ALRIGHT I JUST ATE A BURGER AND MACAROONS STOP JUDGING ME!!!!
We then got the lesbian judgements - the lady at the desk when booking in the next appointment kept looking at us BOTH for reassurance and I just couldn't look at her in the eye encase she thought I was the other parent to this unborn child. I had no problem with her thinking I was a lesbian but for her to think that I was capable of bringing a child into this world was just too much to handle. I knew that if I had held that eye contact for any longer than half a second I would have needed to tell her I'm in no way responsible for any of this!
The midwife was really lovely: she went through the birthing plan with Andri whilst I sat there with my jaw on the floor listening to everything that was going on. I'm sorry but I just couldn't sit there and take it all in without asking a few cheeky questions: "So do you like your job?" "Do you have children?" "Do you work through the night" I just kept asking proper dickhead questions. Luckily she found it all very amusing and once she'd explained what 'skin to skin' meant the questions slowly came to a halt. She was asking for Andri's preference on whether she would like the baby to be cleaned before she could hold him/her or if she wanted the baby placed straight on gunk n'all. At this point I was quietly heaving. I just thought it slipped on out smelling of rainbows with a cheeky little smile, gives Mummy and Daddy cuddles and off home you go. No, no. She was whacking the questions out about cutting cords, removing placenta and bouncing on balls.
By this point I am thinking to myself 'fuck this' it is sooo not simple. The pair of us together aren't really the greatest combination for asking ridiculous pointless questions.
Then the real core of why I'm scarred came:
Andri - "Ok, so I'm really worried you're going to judge me for asking this and it's fine, I judge myself but...I really don't want to shit myself."
I literally nearly fell off the chair. Shit yourself? SHIT YOURSELF? Whilst giving birth to a child you can shit yourself?
The lovely midwife who had probably felt like she'd been abused with pointless questions for the last twenty minutes now had to explain why women shit themselves whilst giving birth. She related it to a tube of toothpaste...need I say more? I haven't been able to clean my teeth the same way since.
So there we have it, I have been put off having children because I might shit myself. I might shit myself in front of people I don't know, or even worse on my child, and welcoming a baby into the world that way was not how I ever imagined it to be. So until I can come to terms with it (or just until I grow up), I will no longer think about having a baby because they're cute and I'd like to dress them up as a bear cub every time my day goes pear shaped.
Here's to not getting knocked up until you are happy to uncontrollably shit yourself.
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